University of Virginia Library

The Scots Apostasie.

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The attribution of this poem is questionable.

Is't come to this? what shall the Cheeks of fame,
Stretch with the breath of learned Lowdons name
Be flag'd againe? and that great piece of sence,
As rich in Loyalty, and eloquence,
Brought to the Test, be found a trick of State
Like Chymists tinctures prov'd adulterate?
The Devill sure such language did atchieve,
To cheat our un-forewarned Grandam Eve,
As this imposture found out to besot
Th'experienc'd English, to believe a Scot:
Who reconcil'd the covenants doubtfull sence?
The Commons argument, or the Cities pence?
Or did you doubt persistance in one good
Would spoil the fabrick of your brotherhood,
Projected first in such a forge of sinne,
Was fit for the grand divels hammering?
Or was't ambition that this damned fact
Should tell the world you know the sins you act?
The infamy this super-treason brings
Blasts more than murder of your sixty Kings,
A crime so black as being advis'dly done,
Those hold with this no competition.
Kings onely suffer'd then, in this doth lie
Th'Assasination of Monarchy.
Beyond this sin no one step can be trod,
If not t'atempt deposing of your God.
Oh were you so ingag'd, that we might see
Heavens angry lightning 'bout your ears to flee,
Till you were shrivel'd to dust; and your cold land
Parcht to a drought beyond the Lybian sand!
But 'tis reserv'd, till heaven plague you worse,
Be Objects of an Epidemick curse.
First may your brethren, to whose viler ends
Your power hath bauded, cease to count you friēds,
And prompted by the dictate of their reason,
Reproach the Traytors though they hug the Treason.
And may their jealousies increase and breed,
Till they confine your steps beyond the Tweed:
In forrain Nations may your loath'd name be
A stigmatizing brand of infamy;
Till forc'd by generall hate, you cease to rome
The world, and for a plague to live at home.
Till you resume your poverty, and be
Reduc'd to beg whore none can be so free
To grant; and may your scabby Land be all
Translated to a general Hospital.
Let not the Sun afford one gentle Ray,
To give you comfort of a summers day;
But, as guerdon of your traiterous war,
Live cherish'd only by the northern star,
No Stranger deign to visit your rude coast,
And be to all but banisht men, as lost.
And such in heightning the infliction due,
Let provok'd Princes send them all to you.
Your State a Chaos be where not the law,
But power, your lives and liberties may aw.
No Subject 'mongst you keep a quiet brest,
But each man strive through blood to be the best;
Till, for those miseries on us you've brought.
By your own sword our just revenge be wrought.
To sum up all let your Religion be,
As your Allegiance, mask'd hypocrisie:
Untill when Charls shall be compos'd in dust,
Perfum'd with Epithetes of good and just;
HE sav'd, incensed heaven may have forgot
T'afford one act of mercy to a Scot,
Unlesse that Scot deny himselfe, and do
(Whats easier far) renounce his Nation too.